Back at Home

Yup, Logan's back at home. He was discharged early this afternoon and Adam brought him home. He'll be hooked up to an antibiotic pump for the next several days, but at least he's here. We're thankful for that.

This'll be a brief entry for me; I'm tired after the long week we've had. I mused to Adam on the way to dinner this evening that for some reason, it felt like the week had gone on forever, yet it's only Wednesday. He wasn't surprised at all by the revelation, and pointed out that it felt long because we didn't have a weekend. Well duh, Sherry. Of course that's it.

On to prayer requests. As always, please do continue to pray for complete healing and protection around Logan. Pray that he'll be able to avoid getting sick again; we've definitely been reminded of what a blessing it is to just be at home, and we'd like to avoid additional trips to CHO. Pray also that as preschool begins, Adam and I will make the right choice with regard to sending him. We want him to be around other kids and to learn, but we also need to be mindful of the extra risks inherent in attending school for someone with a compromised immune system.

Thank you for being part of Logan's team.

Sunday Discombobulation

I thought about it for quite some time and decided that it's the perfect word for how I'm feeling: Discombobulated. Off-kilter. Or perhaps more simply put, just plain upset.

Logan is, of course, still at CHO. He'll be there until the doctor is able to identify the precise bacterium that is responsible for his infection. Hopefully that will happen tomorrow, but it could take a few days more. Identifying the bug is essential because they need to know if the particular strain he has is resistent to a particular drug that they want to use to treat him. So that's that. The upside is that his counts and levels have all looked good so far.

I took my shift with him from 11 until 5 today. During my time there, Logan was mostly bored and cranky. He was amused with the Mater the Greater set that I dug up in my garage and took to him, but the amusement didn't last long and he was quickly back to being surly and disagreeable.

It breaks my heart. It makes me tired. It makes me jealous. It makes me feel unloved, unappreciated and unwanted. I've had a particularly tough weekend emotionally. But I'm doing what I can to move away from the negativity.

It may seem an obvious observation, but I'll share a simple thought I had a few days ago when it felt like the walls were really closing in on me again: When lots of bad things happen to us at once, it's the evil one trying to break us. In my weakened state, I confess that it's hard to not be broken; it's hard to not be shattered and pulverized, in fact. But still, even in my frustration and exhaustion, I'll still refuse to be broken in that way. God has carried our family through the horrific events of the past year, and even though I can't feel His love, I have to believe that He will continue to be present.

Thank you for continuing to pray for Logan's healing and for our family.

The Logan Update - August 27

It's been a long day.

After Logan received a shot of a 24-hour antibiotic at the ER last night, they sent him back home. The doctor (after consulting with hematology/oncology) told Adam to watch out for vomiting, continued fevers and lethargy. As of this morning, he still had a fever over 101 and was absolutely not himself. But that all proved a moot point: A doc from CHO called back at 9:30 to say that bacteria had grown out from one of his chemo port lumens, so we needed to return.

Since Adam was completely drained from sleeping so little last night --they didn't get home until 3 AM-- I took him in. His temp was still over 101 at triage, despite having had Tylenol 45 minutes earlier, but he tried to be cheerful. He insisted that my phone didn't have a wide enough selection of kid-friendly games, so we chose a new one and he happily played for an hour or two while we did what we always do at CHO: Waited. He eventually fell asleep, and I learned that the bacteria had grown in the sample taken from his blue lumen in just 6 hours' time. Though the doctor was reasonably confident that it was a fairly inocuous infection, he consulted with hem/onc and they opted to have him admitted so they could monitor him intensively.

After more waiting, we were finally moved to an isolation room. And that's probably where he'll be for the next few days. I talked with Dr. G, who is on service this weekend and next week, and she said that as soon as they can figure out precisely which bacteria is involved, they'll try to set us up with an antibiotic pump that we can use at home and discharge him. But it usually takes a few days to isolate the offending bug.

So yeah, for now, we're a house divided yet again. I've had a tremendously stressful day. My heart hurts over all of this, and I wish I could make it stop. I wish I could convince God that we've had enough; that Logan is deserving of that healing touch. But as we've had to do so many times in the past, we're being forced to wait it out.

Please pray for Logan's complete healing and health. Pray that they'll be able to quickly isolate the bacteria so we'll be able to get him treated with the correct medication and home again soon. And for me, pray for my heart. It's been broken so many times this past year that it's coated with a tough layer of emotional scar tissue that makes it hard to be open to anything at all.

Thank you for being a part of Logan's team. Good night.

...and more frustration.

After spending the week with the nagging feeling that something simply wasn't right with Logan, he finally spiked a fever this evening. And naturally, it's a Friday night so we're once again going to be robbed of our weekend family time together. I'm trying to channel the frustration, heartbreak, anger, and generic negative emotions into something positive, but I'm not really getting anywhere. I'm so emotionally burned out that there's just not much left; no real room for hope or positive inclinations.

Adam's going to take him to CHO shortly. Please just pray that whatever is wrong is a minor issue, and that he'll be released within a few days. Also pray that I'll be able to let go of the anger, and that instead of directing it at God --which does me no good-- I'll be able to direct it toward the true origin of illness, which deserves my disdain anyway.

Have a good weekend.

A New School Year

Adam went to the office late today so we could all troop, en masse, to drop Abby off for her first day of second grade. As we trotted along, Adam pushing the stroller and me a few paces behind with Abby and Isaac, I felt a flood of conflicted emotion.

At first, the dominant feeling was frustration, tinged with sadness. Had the events of the past year not happened, Logan would've entered Kindergarten today. As I caught glimpses of his should've-been classmates, dressed in their first-day finery and happily trotting toward their classrooms, my heart ached again for normalcy; to turn back the clock and erase all of the pain of the past year. All of the worry, the trauma, the heartache, the hopelessness, the fear.

And then the feelings morphed a little as I watched Logan and Isaac running together down the sidewalk. They're so close in stature right now that someone not in-the-know might assume that they're fraternal twins. But Logan kept pace with his little brother, and I suddenly became aware of the miracle inherent in the scene.

A year ago, we didn't know if Logan would still be with us today. Not only is he still here, but he's well enough to run along the sidewalk. He's small, frail and tires easily, but he's here. Despite my ongoing worries over his health status, he's come so far over the course of the past year. His tenacity, his maturity and so many other things about him astound me every single day. He's not just a 5-year old boy; he's a truly incredible person.

And he may not be going to Kindergarten this year as we'd always thought he would, but there are amazing things in store for him.

A Call to Action -- Help Please

It's been a mentally tough couple of days for me. Despite the doctor's assertion that Logan's eye mobility and appearance is normal, fear has rooted itself in my heart and I can't free myself of its clutches. I'm scared. I watched him like a hawk all weekend, waiting for any kind of slight improvement, but it didn't happen. After several weeks of looking normal or near-normal, it's decidedly off-kilter. Given that that same sign was our indicator of the cancer last year, my heart is camped in my throat and I am nearly sick with worry.

I know: Worry can't add a day to my life or make anything better. But Logan is my sunshine. My sweetheart.

My struggles with God have continued; with why He's allowed the past year's events to come to pass. With the horrific nature of suffering. With conflating the concept of an all-good God with this kind of anguish. But for now, I have to put all of that aside, scrape up the remnants of my battered faith and ask all of Logan's prayer warriors to once again take up their armor and help him and our family.

It's a battleground, as I've said many a time before. My fervent prayer is that this time, it's just me who's under attack; merely my sensibilities and my emotions that are sustaining the blows. That Logan is still well and cancer-free. I feel ill when I think of the last year and how hard it was on our family, and it pains me nearly to despair when I worry that it could happen again; that another round of that kind of fractured existence could be in our future. The fact that it's 2:30 a.m. and I'm once again writing in the black stillness of my bedroom should reveal how serious I am.

So prayers warriors, I'm asking for your help. I'm asking you to please pray for Logan's health and healing in a mighty way. Please pray that his eye will right itself and that it is indeed merely a muscular/nerve issue as the doctor guessed. It's the primary outward indicator of trouble and as it is now, it's making me near mad. For the rest of us, I ask for peace and wisdom.

Thank you. Thank you for sharing this with your praying friends and for interceding for our wonderful, beautiful son.

August Clinic Visit, Some Etceteras and A Surprise

Before I write anything new, I want to thank you all for praying for all of us, but particularly for me and my stress level. I'm very thankful to report that following a torturously restless night a few days ago, yesterday was calmer, and last night calmer still. So praise to God for the peace and thanks to you for the help along the way.

This morning Adam took Logan to CHO for his August oncology clinic visit. Dr. T said that he looked good, and everyone remarked on the coating of very dark hair on his crown. He's still largely bald on the back of his head, and I'm coming around to accepting the notion that it may not grow back. It doesn't make me happy; the little soul patch of very thick hair that he does have is suspiciously shaped like a target, and heaven knows he doesn't need any more targets dogging him in the future. But I guess that's where faith comes in. And it's also a digression.

Anyway, Adam pointed out though it had looked better for a while, his right eye is off-kilter yet again. In response to the observation Dr. T did the usual neurological exams and said he didn't see anything worrisome. In fact, he noted that it appears to be an issue with muscle control. Apparently he had varying degrees of success with control during the exam, but it was mobile from left to right, so there was no cause for concern. Later, as I drove my four-pack to Costco to do some shopping, I stressed over it, worried that Dr. T had missed something. But then a prayer I said before the chaos of my morning began came back to me: I'd very deliberately asked God to give Dr. T wisdom to know the difference between something worrisome and something benign. The memory brought me peace.

But back to the visit and perhaps the most surprising part of the day. Adam asked Dr. T about precautions and immunological testing, and they had a long conversation about the differences between standard post-BMT precautions and oncology's perspective. We've been living according to the prescribed bone marrow transplant requirements simply because we'd never asked for oncology's input: Masks, no parks, no eating out, careful food prep, and a mile-long laundry lists of 'do nots'. As it turns out, oncology handles autologous (self-donated) stem cell transplant recovery differently, and most of those restrictions need not apply. In fact, they don't even do immunological testing until a year has passed.

It's very big news, because it means, among other things, that Logan can go to preschool when it starts. It means we can go out to eat at his favorite place, Sweet Tomatoes. It means that we can go to a baseball game. It means that he can go to a playground. It means we can go to church. Tonight, it meant we could dine at a local eatery, Red Tractor, and not stress over him consuming something we didn't prepare ourselves. Of course we can't --or at least won't-- go buck wild. Preschool will be tricky. There's a good chance that he'll wind up missing a lot of class, since we'll be ultra sensitive to direct exposure to illness: If a child in his class has a cold, I'll ask to be informed and then will keep him home. But still, it's a step we weren't expecting to be able to take yet.

It's insane to feel like life is trending toward becoming 'normal' again, if only because it hasn't been 'normal' for so long. And because we're keenly aware that the past year has inextricably changed us. We can't go on living as we did before because we simply aren't the same people we were. We've lost innocence, but maybe more importantly, we've gained awareness. And part of learning to live 'normally' again is to figure out how to most effectively channel that precious awareness.

And now, without further ado, I present my long list of prayer requests. It's been a while since I've had one, so I thank you all for being part of Logan's team and for supporting our family. First off, and as always, I ask that you pray for protection around Logan and for sustained full healing: For the prevention of relapse, for the prevention of radiation-induced secondary tumors or cancers, for his future physical and intellectual development. Additionally, for protection from common illness. In his current state, he's vulnerable to many common bugs; something very simple for another child could lead to a week-long hospital stay for him. Please pray for his appetite and for his stomach to begin accepting food again; he's continued to have issues in this area. Just this afternoon, he ate several bites of pizza and then threw it up a few minutes later. It's frustrating, but I know it happens. And of course, prayers of thanksgiving for how well he's done so far. His next MRI is scheduled for the morning of September 14, so please keep that date in mind and pray for continued good news and for peace for us as we wait.

For Abby and Isaac as they begin school, for positive, fruitful encounters with friends and teachers. And for them as well as Brady, health. For myself and for Adam, I ask for peace, faith, hope and the strength to withstand attacks by the dark side. I still hold fast to the truth that this is a spiritual battle, and that the world is filled with both good and bad. Finally, for me, health. My stomach has been bothering me on and off for a few weeks now. It could well be nothing at all, but I'm a longtime worrier and it's hard to not be concerned when something feels different or uncomfortable.

Thank you so much, again, for sticking with us and for being part of Logan's team. Thank you for praying for his healing and for witnessing what God has already done here. I'm anxious and worried sometimes and my faith wavers. But I claim Mark 11:22 and proclaim that the mountain will be moved.

Have a wonderful weekend.